


Fate/Kleos Alpha

by Jabyrwock, Rudyards



Series: Fate/Kleos [1]
Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4003111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabyrwock/pseuds/Jabyrwock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rudyards/pseuds/Rudyards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Holy Grail War, they say, was created by the Einzberns to recover a miracle lost to them millennia ago. Perhaps they were looking in the wrong place. Now the Philosopher's Stone has reappeared, and if the legends are to be believed, it may hold the secret of the Holy Grail's true purpose. But the battle to control it will not be fought by the rich and powerful; it will be a war of street magic and treachery, fought by those who were never promised glory. And though it may seem familiar at first, with its heroic spirits and battles of wits, fate has given it a purpose far more important than any of its participants know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fate/Kleos Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> This work is meant to be read concurrently with [Fate/Kleos Beta](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3573188?view_full_work=true), not as a prequel or sequel.

Julian couldn’t see anything.

_– twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven –_

After a moment of panic, he realized his eyes were closed. Had he been asleep? It didn’t seem likely. He felt perfectly awake, and he was standing – no, leaning on something cold and hard.

_– twenty-one, twenty, nineteen –_

He had been counting down for some time, though he couldn’t remember starting. He wasn’t supposed to open his eyes until he got to zero. That was important, somehow.

_– fifteen, fourteen, thirteen –_

There was an unpleasant tickling inside Julian’s head, along with a faint pressure. It almost felt like the beginning of a sneeze.

_– eleven, ten, nine –_

Something was leaving him gradually, sliding out of his mind like a snail from its shell. A few threads of his consciousness still clung to it. They stretched further and further, increasing the pressure in his head. When it was nearly unbearable, they finally let go –

_– three, two, one –_

Julian opened his eyes.

The underside of an old brick bridge hung over him, blocking out the afternoon sun. It curved down behind him to meet the supporting abutment at his back, a cement wall covered in faded graffiti. In front of him, a river crossed beneath the bridge, shimmering in the sunlight. Jae was kneeling at its bank and tracing shapes in the murky water with his fingertips.

Tia stood next to Julian. She was focused on a silvery device cupped in her hands that looked like a cheap metal lighter. As he watched, she nudged the last wisps of a glowing substance into it, nodded in satisfaction, and snapped the top shut.

“Right,” she said, not glancing up, “go dunk your head in the river.”

“What?” said Julian.

Tia tucked the lighter into her back pocket and glanced up at him. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Natural running water, best way to clean your mind.” She tilted her head toward the river. “Come on, better safe than sorry.”

Julian blinked. “Sorry about what?”

“Look, memory manipulation is pretty heavy stuff,” Tia said. “Pulls right from the soul. There’s a reason this sort of thing is illegal.” She tapped his forehead. “You wouldn’t want to leave any frayed edges in there.”

It was starting to come back to him.

Julian had asked Tia to store a memory of his in a container. He needed it as payment. Since the Association prohibited extracting memories, they were a valuable currency for purchasing illicit goods. Even a minor childhood recollection was enough to pay for… whatever it was he wanted to buy.

“Sorry, right,” he said. “I think my short-term recall might be a little shaken up.”

Tia shrugged. “Hey, I’m good, but I’m not perfect. The river should sort that out too.”

The river, it turned out, was freezing. Though Julian could feel his mind clear, it was hard to tell whether that was due to the water’s healing properties or the jolt of adrenaline from the cold. He pulled his head out of the river and gasped for breath, water dripping down his neck.

Jae was sitting on the bank watching him, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I don’t suppose,” said Julian, shivering slightly, “you thought to bring a towel?”

“Nope,” Jae said cheerfully.

Julian ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shake out the moisture. “And that… reaction-accelerating trick you do?”

“Would make you even more frozen!” Jae stood up and stretched his back. “Evaporation has a chilling effect – that’s why you sweat.”

Well, Julian could fix the problem himself, though it wouldn’t be nearly as elegant a solution. He scooped up a handful of mud from the riverbank and used it to scrawl a fire rune on his forehead. Immediately, warmth began to spread into his scalp. He sighed in relief.

While he waited for his hair to dry out, Julian took a moment to collect his thoughts. The extracted memory was for purchasing something from Jae’s dealer, wasn’t it? An elixir. Why did he want it?

Images kept popping into his head. Old stonework. Arrows. Blood.

A vision. He’d had some sort of vision.

It had been hard to understand. He’d only been able to grasp on to individual details – it was like the vision didn’t fit right in his head. That was why he needed the elixir: to temporarily alter the shape of his mind so he could make sense of his vision. No wonder it was illegal.

Jae interrupted his thoughts. “We should probably get going soon. It’s almost three.”

Julian got up and wiped the mud off of his face. “Where are we headed?”

“A few blocks down. You’ll probably recognize the area, I live nearby.” Jae looked away and called out to Tia. “Hey, Ti, we’re ready to go!”

It was a quiet neighborhood, and at this time of day no one else was walking around. A car occasionally drove past, but other than that the streets were empty. The only noise came from electricity humming in the telephone wires. Julian imagined looking down on the city from above, tracing the lines of the wires into an intricate crest. Long ago, the great mages had engraved huge arrays of magical circuits into the earth to define the foundations of thaumaturgical theories. Now modern humanity was doing the same, building vast networks of power to serve as the basis for its scientific advancements.

“Why are you doing this?” asked Jae.

Julian turned toward him. “What do you mean?”

Jae indicated the lighter in Tia’s pocket. “You supposedly had this vision just a week ago. Here you are already, selling off your memories to buy a rare drug which, from what I hear, is pretty dangerous. Are you sure you’re not getting in over your head a little?”

Julian tried not to get irritated. “You were the one who connected me with the dealer.” And what did he mean by ‘supposedly’?

“I’m only saying, sometimes you get a bit… obsessive, honestly. I don’t mean that as an insult, I’m just curious what your actual goal is here.”

Julian kicked at a pebble, not sure how to explain. He didn’t have a goal, exactly. He just knew that he needed to pursue this. Visions didn’t happen to people like him. They meant you were connected to something bigger, something so important it reached out through time and space to touch your mind. How could he ignore it?

“I want to know what it means,” he said honestly.

Tia chuckled. “Yeah, and he wants a cool boast to put on his résumé when he applies for a Lordship at Clock Tower.”

Julian flushed. “I never said I wanted to be a Lord! I just…” He hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I want to be good enough to be one.”

“Being at the Tower’s got nothing to do with how good you are,” Tia retorted amusedly. “Place is a mess. All politics and dynasties. And you’re barely a third-generation mage.”

Barely was right. His grandfather had been a Germanic scholar who researched the linguistics of magical runes, and his mother was mostly interested in how sigils were constructed. Julian was the first of his family to actively practice magecraft, not just study it as an academic field. It didn’t help that the Mage’s Association regarded runes almost as condescendingly as they did witchcraft. Clock Tower was filled with all sorts of prejudices.

“Maybe that’s how it is now,” Julian admitted. “But Ell-Melloi is trying to change that.”

“And Tohsaka’s been pushing for gender equality,” said Tia, “but it’s still the same bunch of elitist old men.” She shrugged. “They just don’t want us.”

“And we don’t need them,” said Jae. “You know what I think? I think they’re a bunch of fogeys who’ve been working on the same research for centuries, spending most of their time squabbling for petty titles. They probably still teach like it’s the Victorian era. The future of magecraft is happening out here.” Jae swept an arm out expansively. “On the streets. In the real world.”

After a moment of silence, Tia raised her hand as though lifting a glass for a toast. “Well, hey. To the future,” she said.

“To the future,” they chorused without hesitation, raising their hands in response.

Julian had to admit that Jae was right; actually working at Clock Tower would probably be awful. But without all the titles and fighting for honors, how could you tell if you had achieved anything? After all, wasn’t that the whole point of being a mage? If Julian had wanted to do practical things, he would have spent his free time studying for exams, not sneaking upstairs to read his mother’s hidden research notebooks. Magecraft, in Julian’s opinion, was about sacrificing your life to the sole task of accomplishing something extraordinary. Without recognition, what did that accomplishment mean?

“This is the place,” announced Jae as they rounded a corner. He gestured toward a narrow alleyway connecting their street to another, bordered on either side by unpainted stone buildings. Neon symbols were spraypainted on the ground, though Julian couldn’t tell if they were more graffiti or utility markings.

The three of them walked into the alley in single-file. When Jae reached a certain point, he turned to the right and pressed his thumb against an old nail sticking out of the side of the wall. He winced, and Julian saw a drop of blood well up on his fingertip. Jae quickly pressed it against a spot lower on the wall. Part of the stone turned translucent and faded away, revealing a niche the size of a microwave with two covered compartments.

“Okay, that’s cool,” said Tia.

Jae grinned. “It’s a bounded field – recognizes customers by their blood. There are probably cheaper dealers around, but I use this one mainly because his gadgets are kind of awesome.” He held out his hand. “Pass me the memory?”

Tia pulled the lighter out of her pocket and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He opened the right compartment and dropped the lighter into it, then closed the cover. After a moment, the left compartment’s cover popped open. Jae reached into it and slowly drew out a flask half full of gray liquid. “And… here we are,” Jae said proudly, offering it to Julian. “Precisely to order, and all that.”

Julian cautiously took hold of the flask, trying to keep it from sloshing. It was hard to believe that a liquid that looked like sewer water could have much magical power. Still, now that he had it in his hands, he found himself impatient to try it.

“Thanks, you guys,” he said. “So, um, see you both tomorrow?”

“Wait, what?” said Tia in surprise.

“Weren’t we planning to go over to Tia’s after?” added Jae.

“You two can go,” said Julian. “I’m going to head home and try to get some sleep. I think my head’s still a little out of it.”

“Oh. Well, see you, then,” said Tia.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” echoed Jae bemusedly.

Julian gave a half-wave, half-solute to both of them and headed out onto the street.

As soon as he was a block away, he ducked into the nearest alley. Of course, he couldn’t risk bringing the elixir home. Besides, why wait any longer? Better to do it now, out of sight, in a place unconnected to him.

He sat down and uncapped the flask. It smelled of oleander, a sickly sweet scent. He exhaled deeply, trying to prepare himself mentally despite not knowing what to expect. The most important part was to remember.

He took a swig of the liquid. It was so bitter he almost choked, but he managed to swallow all of it. Almost at once, a strange dizziness came over him. The alley seemed suddenly unreal, paper-thin. Behind him, he could feel its facade dissolving into darkness. He did not dare to look back. If he glanced even slightly to the left or right, he knew he would see an abyss eating away at his surroundings. It was coming closer, swelling behind him and reaching out with black tendrils to latch on to his mind –

He turned around.

He was kneeling in the ruins of an old Roman amphitheatre. Crumbling stone pillars and arches surrounded him, casting long shadows over the grass. Some had collapsed entirely, leaving huge fragments of rock scattered across the arena. At the theater’s center, past descending rows of seats, was an altar.

He tried to stand up, but something unbearably heavy was on his back. He twisted in an attempt to get a glimpse of the burden without falling over. All he could tell was that it was long and made of wood. It moved with him, though it wasn’t attached by any straps. He suspected it had been nailed to his spine.

He gritted his teeth and pushed harder. The weight pressed down on him, preventing him from even budging. When his muscles couldn’t take the strain any longer, he collapsed to the grass and drew deep, gasping breaths.

He needed to move. He was running out of time to get to the altar. There was no other choice.

He scooped up a handful of dirt and coated his fingertips in it. Slowly, grimacing at the pain, he stretched his arm behind him and drew a rune on the weight. He took a few more deep breaths, then focused.

Warmth exploded along his back.

Tears welled up in his eyes at the overwhelming heat, but he forced himself to stay still. His own fire would not hurt him. But it would destroy the weight. Ash showered down around him. He could feel the burden shifting. With a final push, he knocked it off of him and got to his feet.

On the grass behind him lay a flaming oar. Most of it had burned away, but he could make out intricate wave patterns on its blade. Rivulets of melted iron ran along its shaft.

Julian turned away from it and stumbled down the seats toward the altar. As he drew closer, he could see that an old man was lying on its surface. His hair was pure white, and a thin red line ran from it all the way down to his groin.

Holding on to the side of the altar for balance, Julian pulled himself to his feet and got a closer look. He immediately recoiled in disgust. The red line was a paper-thin cut that divided the old man’s body in two, from which blood was leaking.

Abruptly, the man lifted his arms into the air. Eyes still closed, he reached down and slowly pushed both hands into his chest. Julian heard the wet sound of shifting flesh and the crack of splintering bones. The old man drew his hands out, dripping blood, grasping something red and pulsing. He extended it toward Julian.

Julian reached out to take it. It was a scarlet crystal the size of a fist, shaped like a perfect orb. He curled his fingers around it, heart pounding.

A hand gripped his arm. He tried to pull back, but it held fast. He looked up, frightened, into his own face. The person grabbing him was his mirror image.

The doppelganger raised its other hand. In it was an arrow.

Julian kicked out, trying desperately to free himself, but the doppelganger only gripped tighter.

Slowly, it forced the arrow through the back of Julian’s hand, piercing through and transfixing it to the stone. Julian screamed. The arrow pushed farther, pinning his hand to his chest. Agony tore through his body, and darkness rushed up around him.

He woke on the pavement of the alley, palms bruised from how tightly he had been squeezing his fists. The flask had fallen and shattered; shards of glass were strewn around him. As he pushed himself onto his elbows, trying not to vomit, he saw in each fragment a broken reflection of his face.


End file.
